


The Lives We Lead - Fallout Edition

by GarnetSeren



Series: The Lives We Lead [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Women, Ballroom Dancing, Canon-Typical Violence, Dancing, Dancing Lessons, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Friendship, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Honest Hearts DLC, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Nuka-World DLC (Fallout 4), Partnership, Period Typical Bigotry, Polyamory, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Women Being Awesome, Women In Power, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23655541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetSeren/pseuds/GarnetSeren
Summary: This is a collection of Fallout one-shots, the summary for each 'chapter' can be found at the start of each page.01. Death and Defiance (Fallout 4 poly)02. Ad Victoriam (Brotherhood of Steel)03. To Live Again - Raul/Six04. Precipice - Boone/Six05. World's Collide - Raul/Six/Joshua Graham06. Auld Lang Syne - Hancock/Nora07. Stars - Hancock/Nora08. Wicked Game - Raul/Six09. Sway, Mambo - Raul/Six10. Collision Course - Porter Gage/Nora11. Partners - Porter Gage/Nora12. Something More - Porter Gage/Nora
Relationships: Cait & Female Sole Survivor, Craig Boone/Female Courier, Female Courier/Joshua Graham, Female Courier/Raul Tejada, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor, Porter Gage/Female Sole Survivor
Series: The Lives We Lead [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703179
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69





	1. Death and Defiance (Fallout 4)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Peramia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peramia/gifts), [coteobscur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coteobscur/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'd think after slaughtering her way through Gunners, Brotherhood of Steal zealots, Raiders, and even the Insitute forces, that people would get the point that you didn't mess with her family and get away with it. Or at least, that's what Nora had hoped. However, she'd had to rescue all her guys from various sticky situations over the past few months. Not a single enemy had survived her wrath, yet still there were some stupid assholes who though they could harm the people she loved, and get away with it. They were very, VERY wrong.

When Nora heard Cait's loud swearing in her thick Irish brogue, she quickly picked up her pace; her Alsation bounding beside her. Her heart pounded as she ran up the cracked tarmac road. Nora almost couldn't believe what was happening... almost. She'd already had to rescue her guys from some pretty shitty situations over the last few months, and she refused to let anything happen to her closest female friend. Though seriously, one would think that after Nora had slaughtered her way through the first _three_ situations, that _maybe_ word would get round that you didn't mess with her family and live to see another day. After _five_ such instances, Nora really had to wonder if the stupid shits joining the various factions actually had some sort of suicide pact. Because they just kept trying to piss her off... and succeeded. Which was only ever going to end badly for them. However, this time Nora had thankfully received the mayday from the Red Rocket, whilst she was relatively close by at Abernathy's Farm. And luckily it was the human firecracker; Cait, who'd adopted the crude little settlement as her own haunt. Not that Nora doubted her guys' prowess, but the Irish spitfire was a woman after her own heart. She almost laughed at the amount of raider corpses she ran passed, who had their skulls or faces caved in, because whatever else could be said about the lovable psycho, Cait was a dab hand at the old chain wrapped, nail spiked baseball bat. Of course that didn't mean Nora had an easy time of it, and her shotgun and switch blade got plenty of action as she ploughed through the raider group; that just _had_ to be on a kamikaze run; considering the way they were simply throwing their lives away. And although Nora disliking the violence she'd had to adopt since waking up in the Commonwealth, she couldn't help the dark chuckle that escaped her, as she rushed up the last leg of hill, and found the Irishwoman stalking back and forth in front of three badly injured raiders; whilst swinging her bat almost nonchalantly with each step.

  
“Please... please don't tell that General of yours. We didn't realise this was one of her settlements, honest,” one raider begged.  
  


“Why the fuck are you sucking up? Just knife the bitch so we can run,” another said.  
  


“Are you fucking kidding? She's one of the General's people. Do you know what the General does to people who cross her?” the third loudly whispered.  
  


“I make sure there's barely enough of you fuckers left for the birds to peck at,” Nora drawled.  
  


She genuinely hadn't know she had the reputation she evidently had, and wasn't _entirely_ sure she deserved it... after all, she was only looking out her family at the end of the day. Her weird, eclectic, ticking time bomb of a family... but Nora decided to roll with it. Apparently, so did Cait.  
  


“Yeah, do you know what the boss did to the last fuckers that tried to mess with us?” the woman sneered.  
  


Two terrified raiders shook their heads... one looking like he was about to faint already... whilst the third _tried_ to glare at her. Nora snorted another dark laugh, before subtly signalling to her dog. Like the good boy he was, the menacing Alsation gave a vicious growl, his hackles raising as he dropped low into an attack stance. With the same nonchalance that Cait swung her bat, Nora hefted her favourite shotgun from her back, cocking her hip to the side as she made a show of leisurely sliding bullets into the double barrel chamber. Then almost lazily, she let her gaze wander up to settle on the pathetic bastards still kneeling on the dirty ground, before smirking at her friend.  
  


“Wanna make a bet on which one dies the quickest?” she asked.  
  


“How about which one screams the loudest,” Cait suggested. “Or how about best blood splatter. We ain't done that one in a while.”  
  


Nora let her cold gaze fall back to the raiders. “This is the part where you run for your lives.”  
  


Right on cue, the three scrambled to their feet, falling over themselves in a bid to get away as the dog gave an angry bark. Cait laughed maniacally, as Nora clipped her shotgun back in place and pulled a grenade from her pocket. She spared a split second to give silent thanks to Nate, who'd insisted on teaching her how to properly throw a ball... convinced Shaun was going to grow up to love baseball as much as he did... so after pulling the pin, Nora tossed the grenade with alarming ease and accuracy. A moment later, blood and dismembered body parts fell back to the ground.  
  


“Jesus... sunshine, remind me never to get on your bad side.”  
  


Nora was already smiling affectionately as she glanced over her shoulder, though she was surprised to see not only John looking at her shocked, but Mac, Nick, Preston and even Deacon. It was obvious her five wonderful guys had run all the way from Sanctuary after hearing the Mayday, and Nora couldn't help wandering over to them. She snaked her arms around John's waist and Mac's shoulders, since they were the closest, and Cait joined them a moment later.  
  


“Think we should have let one of those ass-wipes live?” the Irishwoman wondered, aloud.  
  


Nora shook her head. “Nah. Hopefully after taking out all of these fuckers, others will finally get the message.”  
  


Nick huffed a laugh, smiling at her indulgently. “I sometimes think you have too much faith in the Commonwealth, doll.”


	2. Ad Victorium (Brotherhood of Steel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She charged across the battlefield, dispatching any of the horrors that got too close. Unfortunately, her rifle clicked empty just as she came across a young recruit hesitating over the prone body of the enemy. She spared the disgusting creature a contemptuous look, taking in it's disfigured face and withered skin. It didn't matter if it's clothes weren't tatter rags like it's more feral counterparts, nor did it matter that it was crying and begging for mercy. She snarled in disgust as the abomination gripped her boot, pleading with her, before she swiftly brought the butt of her rifle down onto it's bald head. She felt no remorse as she repeated the action twice more. After all, she was helping the disgusting creature by ending it's pathetic life, even if it's brain was too rottened for it to realise she was granting it mercy...

With stoic determination, she popped up from behind the ruined wall she'd taken shelter behind, and launched the last of her grenades at the enemy. Ducking back down, she screwed her eyes shut and counted to three, as the detonation blasted severed bodies parts around the battlefield. It was her least favourite part, but duty was duty. She had to eradicate the vile creatures from her beloved homeland, the monsters that had caused the deaths of her parents and little brother. It didn't matter that this group seemed more organised than the shambling horrors she'd encountered in her youth, it didn't matter that the walked more up right and wore respectable clothing. They were still abominations that had no right to roam the Commonwealth, no right to terrorise the good people trying to make a life for themselves... good people like her long deceased family.

Suddenly, there was a startled shout to her right, and without hesitation, she threw herself out of cover to rapidly fire at the trio of abomination that had tried to surround her fellow soldier. The kid was only an Initiate, and saluted his gratitude the moment he scrambled to his feet. She nodded in reply. The battlefield was no place for a heart to heart, not to mention her rank as Knight far outstripping him, but she was still relieved to see the kid walk away unscathed. Too many good men and women had fallen to these monstrosities already, and she'd be damned if one more died on her watch. It didn't matter if she wasn't the one in charge of this mission, that was Paladin Brandis, these soldiers were still her family and she'd use everything in her arsenal to keep them alive and in one piece. With that in mind, she charged across the battlefield with renewed vigour, dispatching any of the horrors that got too close. Unfortunately, her rifle clicked empty, just as she came across a young recruit hesitating over the prone body of the enemy. She spared the disgusting creature a contemptuous look, taking in it's disfigured face and withered skin. It didn't matter if it's clothes weren't tatter rags like it's more feral counterparts, nor did it matter that it was crying and begging for mercy. She snarled in disgust as the abomination gripped her boot, pleading with her, before she swiftly brought the butt of her rifle down onto it's bald head. She repeated the action twice more, using all her strength to shatter it's skull. Bile rose in her throat as she shook brain matter off her boots, and ushered the stunned recruit into shelter. The young woman was shaking like a leaf, so after assuring herself they were safe for the moment, she crouched down in front of her.

“First mission?” she asked, kindly.

The young recruit nodded, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

She nodded in understanding. “I know it's not easier, but you need to remember the good work we're doing. We're helping to liberate the Commonwealth. To make it safe for honest, decent people to live in. And I know it might not seem it, but we're doing those monsters a kindness.”

“But it was begging me...” the other woman sobbed, burying her head in her hands.

Gently, she rested her hand on the woman's knee. “Would you like to live out your life like that? To be a mindless monster only capable of hurting people?” She paused, to let her words sink in before continuing: “As much as we are out to protect the people of the Commonwealth, we _are_ helping those horrible creatures. Even if their brains are too rotted for them to realise it. We're putting them out of their misery.”

Sniffling, the recruit gave her a watery smile. “I never thought about it like that. Thank you.”

She smiled, offering the woman a hand up. “It gets easier, I promise. But if you find yourself having sleepless nights, think about why you joined. Be proud you're making a real difference out here. And remember, we're a family. The Brotherhood will always look after you.”


	3. To Live Again (Raul/Six)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They sat together, their backs pressed up against the cool metal wall of the dilapidated trailer, as the music from the old pirate radio station filling their silence. Raul wasn't sure what Six was thinking, but he couldn't get his mind out of the past. He remembered Lone Wolf Radio and the guy's crazy theories, but considering he'd lived through a nuclear apocalypse, Raul guessed they weren't crazy conspiracy theories after all. Unable to help it, tears pricked his eyes as he stared down at his withered and pockmarked hands, a bitter huff of laughter escaping him. Lone Wolf really hadn't been the crazy one.

They sat together, their backs pressed up against the cool metal wall of the dilapidated trailer, the music that was somehow still being broadcast from the old pirate radio station filling their silence. Raul wasn't sure what Six was thinking, but he couldn't get his mind off the graffiti that was splashed across the trailer's rusting wall: **Everyone is gone. I am all alone. Let it all end.** Unable to help it, Raul sighed. Even though he'd lived in Mexico before the bombs, he remembered Lone Wolf Radio and the guy's crazy theories; though considering the world as they'd known it really had ended, Raul guessed they weren't such crazy conspiracy theories after all. Tears pricked his eyes as he stared down at his withered and pockmarked hands, a bitter huff of laughter escaping him. Lone Wolf really hadn't been the crazy one.

“You doing alright?” Six asked, quietly.

Raul tilted his head to consider his saviour and travelling companion. Six was certainly a product of her time... of the world after the bombs had fallen... with her auburn dreadlocks, her perpetually sun-blushed skin, and the _very_ noticeable scar above her left eyebrow from where she'd been shot and left for dead. But she was a fighter, a survivor, and the scar did nothing except highlight her beauty. And thinking that just made Raul sigh again, because despite his best efforts, in the weeks since the firecracker had stormed through the Black Mountains and liberated him, Raul had developed less than platonic feelings for the human. But acknowledging that was just setting himself up for a fall, because despite Six' accepting and remarkably friendly nature, there was no way a pretty young thing like her would give an old ghoul like him even a second look. Or so Raul kept telling himself. Because just as he reminded himself of that fact, Six reached over and laced her perfect fingers with his gnarled ones; as if the feeling of his twisted skin against her barely calloused palm wasn't repulsive to her.

“I'm okay, Boss,” he replied, unable to keep the weariness from his voice.

"Liar,” Six countered, but not unkindly. “You can talk to me, you know.”

She leant her head on his shoulder as she spoke, and Raul did his best not to brush his thin lips across her scarred forehead. Outside, the blazing hot Mojave sun was finally beginning to set; making Raul realise just how long they'd been hunkered down in the pre-war relic, all because some centuries old graffiti had brought back feelings he'd thought he'd dealt with at least a hundred years ago. But for some reason, the hopelessness of the phrase had caught him off guard, and he couldn't stop thinking about those first desperate weeks after the bombs had fallen... and the pain of losing his last sister, after everything they'd endured since fleeing their family's ranch. After Rafaela's murder, Raul hadn't let himself get overly attached to anyone; not until Six had blazed into his life, like some avenging angel. Now, as reluctant as he was to admit it even to himself, he really didn't know what he'd do without her.

“I know, Boss...” he replied, before lapsing back into silence.

He tried not to wince when Six huffed her own dejected sigh, but was shortly left starring at her, when the redhead silently pulled their joint hands towards her, and Raul unexpectedly felt Six' ridiculously plush lips press against the back of his ruined hand. Once again, she didn't seem at all put off by his withered skin, and he didn't know what to make of it. However, he did understand the gesture, so after only a short internal debate, Raul eased his hand out of her grasp, before slowly draping his arm around her slender shoulders; giving Six plenty of time to pull away, if she suddenly realised she didn't want to be so close to a ghoul. But all the crazy woman did was snuggle in closer to him, curling her arm around his waist and effectively giving Raul his first hug since his sister died. Not for the first time, he wondered if Six had been so unusual even before someone had tried to execute her.

“Why'd you call me boss?” she asked, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

“You're calling the shots,” he pointed out.

“You didn't have to come with me,” Six replied, glancing up at him.

“You'd have me wandering the desert alone?” he queried, suddenly inexplicably nervous.

“Considering the trouble you got yourself into before we met, not likely,” she smirked. “But I mean, me and Rex could have escorted you somewhere.”

The robodog trotted over from where it had been laying 'guarding' the opening of the trailer where the door had once been, and gave a bark that suspiciously sounded like an agreement, before flopping down again at their feet.

“I'm not some damsel in distress,” Raul stated.

“I beg to differ,” Six chuckled, before unexpectedly pressing a fleeting kiss to his ruined cheek. “I like travelling with you, _Miguel_. But I don't expect it. I didn't free you from Tabatha for your subservience. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” he assured, squeezing her gently in a moment of madness.

In all honest, despite swearing his gun-slinging days were over after what had happened to first Rafaela, and then Claudia... seventy five years after his sister's murder... Raul _liked_ traipsing across the Mojave with Six and her dog; despite the fact it was playing havoc with his old knees, and it took him far longer to recover after a firefight than it used to. Because despite Six' ready admission that she hadn't a clue what she was doing, since she'd had retrograde amnesia ever since waking up from being buried in a shallow grave, what she was doing was good. Something that had been in very short supply since the bombs were dropped; and probably a long while before that. But it wasn't just that, that had Raul watching the brazen young woman's back. He liked Six. He liked her inquisitive and curious nature. He liked her borderline obsession with old world tech, even though he refused to fix up a motorbike for her. He liked her disastrous attempts to learn Spanish from him. He liked the fact she'd hoard any bubblegum and toys they found, only to distribute them to the children they came across. He liked the way she sang absent-mindedly to the radio on her Pipboy as they walked. He liked that he could trust her to keep watch for half the night whilst they were out in the desert, and the fact she wasn't afraid to sleep back-to-back with him on the rare occasion they bedded down in an outpost or town. He even liked the fact she could face off a deathclaw without a second thought, but jumped out of her skin every time a molerat popped up from the ground. Really, he just liked Six. He liked being around her, he liked her company and during moments like this, Raul was almost certain the feeling was somewhat mutual.

“You know... you're seriously the best partner, Raul. I'm glad I stormed the Black Mountains and met you,” Six announced, barely stifling a yawn.

“You had many partners, Boss?” he asked, trying not to think about the decades he'd spent as a prisoner before she came to his rescue.

Six suddenly burst out laughing, and Raul already had an idea about what she was about to say, even before she stated: “I have no idea.”


	4. Precipice (Boone/Six)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cottonwood Cove was notorious, and crawling with Legion forces, which she'd known when she'd accepted the rescue mission. So despite preferring travelling with Raul, she'd known there was no one but Boone that she could take with her. His hatred of the Legion eclipsed her own for Benny and Mr House... which was really saying something... but as they stood looking over the camp, she suddenly realised that she hadn't fully thought through the implications for her companion, before she'd asked for his assistance.

Six tensed, her hand automatically reaching for the Cosmic Knife she kept strapped to her thigh... a parting gift she'd taken from the Sierra Madre when she'd escaped with Dean... as a large hand wrapped around her bicep. A towering height pressed against her back, but instead of feeling even more threatened, Six began to relax as she smelt a familiar tang of gun oil. She even tilted her head at an angle, so Boone didn't have to lean down so far when he murmured in her ear:

“I've... been here before.”

She nodded once, understanding what he wasn't staying, and raised her free hand to shield her eyes as she swivelled slightly to look at him. Of course, her green eyes met his shaded gaze, but this close, she could just make out the distorted green of his irises. He was looking at her with the same silent intensity he always did when he divulged a tiny piece of his past, and Six set her hand over his that still held her bicep; she wasn't physically affectionate with Boone like she was with the others, and travelling with him was certainly a stark contrast from travelling with Raul, which was why she'd been startled by him reaching for her. But this close to her most stoic companion, Six could easily understand the ghosts that were haunting his normally hidden eyes.

“Carla?” she whispered.

It was Boone's turn to nod, his jaw clenching as he finally let go of her arm, but Six caught his hand before he fully pulled away; giving his fingers a squeeze, then let him close himself off again. When he'd startled her, she'd been studying to map on her Pipboy, trying to figure out their best course of action. Cottonwood Cove was notorious, and crawling with Legion forces, which Six had known when she'd accepted the rescue mission. So despite preferring travelling with Raul, she'd known there was no one but Boone that she could take with her. His hatred of the Legion eclipsed her own for Benny and Mr House, which was really saying something, but Six suddenly realised that she hadn't fully thought through the implications for her companion, when she'd asked for his assistance. So for the first time since they'd stumbled upon their unexpected shelter on an outcrop overlooking the camp, Six felt the urge to really look about the ramshackle lean-to, and noticed similarities to the way Boone liked to set up camp. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, as she realised it was probably the spot he'd been forced to snipe his wife from. The understanding must have shone in her eyes, because Boone took to pointedly avoided her gaze.

“Do you have any tactics for heading in?” she asked instead, as she tied back her auburn dreadlocks back with a scrap of fabric that had once been one of Arcade's t-shirts.

“If I see crimson, I'm taking the shoot,” Boone stated, matter-of-fact. “If you don't like that...”

“Kill as many of those fuckers as you want,” Six interrupted, stepping into his line of sight. “But this isn't a suicide run. We need to get the Weathers' out of there, and preferably not get killed in the process.”

For a long weighted moment, Boone just looked at her. Quiet and intense. Six knew he was haunted by so much of his past... from Bittersprings to what happened with his wife and unborn child... but she also know that he was a good man; no matter how he refused to see the same thing. So her heart was hammering in her chest as she waited for his reply, for his confirmation he wasn't about to do something stupid and throw his life away. Six barely managed to hold in a sigh of relief when Boone finally nodded, though she couldn't help squeezing his shoulder in support and thanks, before she slipped passed him to take point with the 9mm that had almost killed her.


	5. Worlds Collide (New Vegas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joshua was uncomfortable witnessing the courier and the ghoul together... as well as enthralled; watching how the ghoul paraded around as if the state of his withered skin wasn't an affront to God's image, as if his ruined body wasn't obvious penance for whatever sins the ghoul had committed when he was a man. Joshua couldn't understand how the ghoul could show his ravaged face without remorse, or deign to touch a woman who was as much of a vision as the Mojave ever allowed... after all, it wasn't just the constant pain that kept Joshua bound head to toe in bandages. He knew he was the stuff of nightmares, sin made flesh. However, it wasn't the ghoul's unrepentant ways that held Joshua's attention, it was the woman. The courier. It was the way she looked at the ghoul without judgement or reproach, as if he was her equal instead of a sinner condemned to hell. So when she turned her eyes upon him, although Joshua felt rooted to the spot, he was pulled like a moth to a flame.

Six jerked awake, and immediately bit back a hiss of pain, when agony bloomed from her left thigh. She felt muddled and disorientated, which didn't help when an unfamiliar man in a checked shirt was suddenly by her side, offering her a can of purified water. She eyed it distrustfully, until he took a swig himself, then accepted the drink with slightly trembling hands. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the flickering candle light that filled the room, that wasn't really a room at all; more of a cave hollowed out of rock, that someone had decided to set up a bed in, along with a thrown together desk and some rickety looking bookshelves. It certainly wasn't the worst place she'd ever woken up in, though she really wished she could remember what had happened. So whilst she drank, Six listened as the stranger introduced himself as Daniel and explained he'd had to give her Med-X... which explained the grogginess... before he extracted a bullet from her leg, which explained the pain and the very noticeable lack of trousers.

Begrudgingly, Six muttered her thanks, and since she hadn't woken up bound, let the guy peel back the fur throw she'd been laying under, so he could check the bandage that covered most of her upper leg. Once he was done, he retrieved a stack of clothes that had been neatly folded on the floor beside the bed, and explained 'everyone' would be waiting outside when she was ready. Six frowned, not entirely sure who _everyone_ was, but relieved to have a few moments to try and collect her thoughts as she dressed; huffing a laugh when she discovered someone had turned the jeans she usually wore into shorts, presumably because they'd been too damaged when she'd been shot. Thankfully, the cut offs ended just a few inches from her knee, and once teamed with her combat boots and the duster Ulysses had made for her after they'd both escaped the Divide... that she wore over a once black t-shirt that she'd stolen from Cass... Six didn't think she looked half bad. Though she felt better once she'd strapped her Cosmic Knife to her good thigh, a parting gift from Dean when they'd finally left the Sierra Madre, as well as holstered the 9mm that had almost killed her. The last thing Six did was tie back her auburn dreadlocks with a scrap of fabric that had once been an old t-shirt of Boone's, then made her halting way across the room.

She was still angry she couldn't remember what had happened, and was left with the uncomfortable impression she must have hit her head again. She wasn't sure where she was, she wasn't who she'd been with... though was certain she'd been travelling with someone that wasn't Daniel... and she wasn't sure who was waiting for her outside. However, Six was pretty damn sure she didn't know the majority of the people who turned to stare at her, as she stepped out of the cave network into the balmy night air, but there was one very familiar and welcome face sat by the crackling campfire that she instantly recognised; or two, if you counted flying bot that was suddenly hurtling towards her.

* * *

ED-E beeped and chirped in excitement the moment Six exited the cave she'd been resting in. The ceilings had been too low for it to hover properly, meaning it had been forced to wait outside for her. But now she was out in the open again, and ED-E pushed it's propulsion jets as hard as it could, just to get to her a little bit faster. In it's excitement, it almost crashed into her. But instead of being angry it nearly knocked her over again, Six just laughed.

Happy that she was happy, ED-E flew a quick circle around her, before tilting forward so it could gently bump against her forehead without hitting her with it's Tesla cannon. Six laughed again, before lightly patting it's shell; prompting ED-E to bob up and down in delight. It loved it's new Mom just as much as it had loved it's old Dad, and although it missed it's old Dad, it's new Dad made it happy too... with all the tune ups and detailed cleaning he gave it. And now Six was back outside and not in the too small cave, and Raul was finally standing with them too, so ED-E let out another series of beeps and chirps; letting it's Mom and Dad know it was happy they were all together again.

* * *

Raul shook his head in fond exasperation as ED-E hurtled towards Six; thankfully stopping before it barrelled into her again. Even though most people thought the little robot was just another eyebot, he knew differently. ED-E cared about Six just as much as he did, which was why the bot had flown over to the courier the moment she'd be shot in the thigh... after she'd pushed their new tribal friend out of harm's way. Unfortunately, ED-E had been a little too frantic and had ploughed into Six, knocking her over. She'd hit the ground hard, and when Raul had carefully hefted her unmoving body into his arms, he'd genuinely thought she was dead. But by some miracle she was still breathing, and he'd followed their new friend's directions without hesitation; he'd have walked through fire if it meant Six would be alright, so walking into a camp full of tribes people who looked at him the way Arcade looked at a new medical journal had been nothing. Their leader however, gave him pause. Raul knew the name Joshua Graham... and also knew the names these people didn't utter. Malpais Legate. The Burned Man. However, he understood the desire to leave your past behind all too well, so when they locked eyes as he lay Six down on the bed he was directed to, Raul merely gave a respectful nod. After all, he hated the Legion far less than other members of their eclectic group did, mostly because he distrusted the NCR just as much. However, he knew Six had a vastly different opinion, so as he sat by the campfire waiting... hoping, praying... for the boss to wake up, Raul couldn't help wondering how Six would react to the revelation.

But then she was emerging from the cave he'd barely taken his eyes off, her eyes still hazy... from the Med-X or from her brain being rattled again, he didn't know... but finding him immediately. Raul got up as quickly as his old knees would let him, following in ED-E's wake, and thanks to the solid friendship they'd formed over the months they'd travelled together, he didn't hesitate to pull Six into as tight a hug as he dared. She practically melted against him; her ridiculously soft cheek pressing tightly against his ruined one. She was warm and solid in his arms, and Raul barely resisted the urge to bury his face in the crook of her neck, as tears of relief pricked his eyes. Six was the only person he'd let close since his sister had been murdered... two hundred years ago. He'd been terrified he was going to lose her too; convinced that if she didn't bleed to death from the bullet wound, that taking another knock to the head would finish Six off. But she was safe, she was mostly whole, and she was wearing the damn jeans he'd cut into shorts more for something to do, than actually expecting her to wear them. Raul huffed a laugh at the madness of it all, and couldn't resist whispering a dig; reminding Six that coming to Zion had been her idea of a vacation.

* * *

Joshua stood away from the campfire, quietly observing how the Dead Horses interacted with the ghoul that was in their midst; an anomaly they'd never encountered before, yet instead of being horrified, some had politely asked if this Raul had been burnt like he had been. The ghoul had just chuckled dryly, and had taken to telling stories of the old world, until Follows Chalk had asked for stories about the woman who'd been shot defending him. Joshua hadn't missed how this Raul's milky eyes had lit up at the mention of the woman he called Six, nor did he miss how animated the ghoul became as he recounted several fantastical stories about deeds this woman had apparently done. Even the damned eyebot that had followed them into the canyon beeped and chirped along, as if it was trying to add it's own opinion to the stories; which was just plain ludicrous as far as Joshua was concerned. But then the woman was limping out of Angel Cave, and he adamantly didn't take notice of how her toned legs were perfectly displayed by the shorts she wore, or how her skin was as pale as moonlight, or how her green eyes seemed to hold the weight of the world but also unmistakeable resilience as she looked about the cove. What was harder to ignore was the musical sound of her laughter as the eye-bot _nuzzled_ her in greeting, or how she pushed up on her toes and pressed her unblemished cheek to the ghoul's twisted one, when he pulled her into a far too familiar embrace.

It was uncomfortable to watch them together... as well as enthralling. Watching how the ghoul paraded around as if the state of his withered skin wasn't an affront to God's image, as if his ruined body wasn't obvious penance for whatever sins the ghoul had committed when he was a man. Joshua couldn't understand how this Raul could show his ravaged face without remorse, or deign to touch a woman who was as much of a vision as the Mojave ever allowed. Nor could he understand how this Six could allow such an abomination to touch her so freely, without once recoiling or showing any disgust, when the ghouls twisted hand touched her almost unblemished body; after all, it wasn't just the constant pain that kept Joshua bound head to toe in bandages. He knew he was the stuff of nightmares, sin made flesh. It was the Lord's punishment for all the wrongs he had done, the cross that he had to bare. But although he had accepted this as fact, Joshua wouldn't inflict his penance on another soul. No one else needed to see how his facade now reflected the twisted, horrendous things he had once allowed his body to enact. So the fact that this Raul could walk about so unabashed, touch another without remorse, went against everything Joshua knew to be true. However, it wasn't the ghoul's unrepentant ways that held his attention, it was the woman. Six. It was the way she looked at this Raul without judgement or reproach, as if he was her equal, and not a sinner condemned to hell. And when she turned her green eyes upon him, although Joshua felt rooted to the spot, he too found unfathomably absolution in her gaze; like a moth to a flame, he was pulled into her orbit.


	6. Auld Lang Syne (Hancock/Nora)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were hauled up in a building Nora insisted had once been a school, their backs leaning against a half ruined wall, whilst the remains of a dozen raiders littered the floor on the other side. Nora's face was illuminated by the glow of her pipboy's screen, before she huffed a bitter sounding laugh, then unexpectedly leant her head against his. For reasons Hancock didn't want to examine, his heart began to race; which probably had everything to do with how soft her hair felt against his withered skin, and not for the first time, Hancock barely resisted the urge to reach out for her. But then to top it all off... to his continued surprise... Nora tilted her head and pressed her ridiculously plush lips to his ruined cheek. For several heartbeats, Hancock didn't dare breath in case he shattered whatever moment of madness they were having.

Hancock tilted his head to the side, giving his companion a questioning look, when he heard her snort a bitter sounding laugh. They were hauled up in a building Nora insisted had once been a school, their backs leaning against a half ruined wall, whilst the remains of a dozen raiders littered the floor on the other side. They'd gone to deal with a gang that had been ambushing caravans, finding the bastards better armed than either Preston or Deacon's intel had indicated. The battle had been gruelling, just Hancock and Nora against thirty raiders, but somehow they'd pulled through with only minor injuries; a bullet to the shoulder for him, and several broken ribs for her. But it was so late by the time they were done mopping up the raiders, that it would have been suicide to try make it to one of her settlements, so after several stimpacks had worked their magic, they'd set up a meagre camp on the top floor of the ramshackle building... several tripwires, mines and even a rigged shotgun between them and the stairwell, in case these fuckers had any friends still kicking about. Since they slept in shifts whilst on the road, Hancock had rolled out their solitary sleeping bag, whilst Nora had started a small fire in an old enamelled bucket she'd rummaged, before they sat side by side staring silently at the flames.

“What's wrong, sister?” he asked, resisting the far too common urge to reach for her.

Nora's face was illuminated by the glow of her pipboy's screen, her verdant eyes looking almost other worldly in the sickly green light. Her full lips were down turned, her brow was creased, and the large bruise on her cheek from where a raider had pistol whipped her still hadn't begun to fade. But her auburn hair was uncoiled from it's customary bun, hanging in a loose braid over one shoulder, slightly softening her normal 'ass-kicking' look; that along with her slicked back hair, was comprised of a set of military fatigues, combat boots and a leather jacket Hancock knew had once belonged to her husband's killer. A strange necklace hung around her neck, that she'd once referred to as “Nate's Dogtags” and although he'd never had the guts to outright ask, Hancock suspected that regardless of them being intended for a hound, they'd once belonged to her husband... or at least he assumed that's who 'Nate' was.

“Happy fucking new year,” she muttered, angrily. Still scowling at the screen.

“Um... what now?” he replied, wondering if he'd get a clout if he leant in to look at her pipboy, to see what was offending her so much.

She sighed, shutting her eyes as she tipped her head back to rest on the flaking wall. “It's just past midnight. Officially the first of January... New Year's day.”

“That... ah... that a big deal before the... well, before?” he asked, hesitantly.

Nora's eyes shot open and gave him a scandalised look. “You mean you celebrate Christmas but not New Year?”

“Christmas? You mean the light festival only Diamond City holds?” Hancock queried, reaching into his pocket, trying to decide if he wanted Jet or Mentats for this conversation. “Ain't nothing worth celebrating there. McDonough found a few boxes of lights in storage when he became mayor, and when he ran the ghouls out... or 'liberated' the city as he called it... he got his people to hang the lights in a show of celebration. It's about that time I booked it out of there, but I hear it's been an annual occurrence since.”

She snorted another bitter laugh. “Figures. Only celebration I've come across and it's horrific.”

Hancock settled on Jet and took a drawn out drag, before offering Nora a tight lipped smile. “I know the 'wealth isn't exactly what you're use to, but there's still some good out here. For instance, I reckon you just missed the harvest when you...”

“Got spat into the future?” Nora supplied, humourlessly.

Without a word, Hancock offered her the Jet canister in an act of solidarity... that she declined as usual... before he continued: “After all the help you've given them, I bet the Abernathy's will have one hell of a celebration when it rolls around again.”

“I take it 'harvest' is a farm by farm basis?” she asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“Any settlement that grows its own produce usually holds a celebration,” Hancock explained, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling as he debated how to word what he was about to say. “And... if you haven't got tired of my ugly mug by then, I'll show you how Goodneighbour rings in the Spring.”

“Spring?” Nora chuckled, which sounded lighter than he'd ever heard her laugh before. “I wasn't expecting that.”

“What's not to celebrate? The cold has buggered off and you've survived another Winter, perfect reason for a party,” he grinned.

“Do _you_ need a excuse for a party?” she countered, before unexpectedly leaning her head against his.

For reasons he didn't want to examine, Hancock's heart began to race; which probably had everything to do with how soft her hair felt against his withered skin, or maybe how completely unphased Nora seemed to be about being so close to a ghoul... which considering she'd lived in a time where people like him just hadn't existed, Hancock thought was some kind of miracle. But then again, from the moment he'd set eyes on the pre-war bombshell, he'd always known Nora was something special.

“Sounds like you're judging,” he teased, knowing she was doing nothing of the sort.

“More offended you haven't invited me to one of your infamous parties yet,” Nora retorted. “Daisy says they're a riot.”

Hancock huffed a laugh. “Tell you what, sister, next time we roll through the gates, I'll set one up for you. An official 'Welcome to the Neighbourhood' party.”

“I've been to Goodneighbour six times in the last two months,” she pointed out, smiling. “Bit late for a welcome party.”

“Six times that you've traded, six times you've run odd jobs, six times you've insisted on taking at least one guard watch. Hell... six times you've gone round just talking to the residents or shooting the breeze with my boys. You're practically one of us now,” he stated, truthfully. “Think that's cause enough for celebration.”

To Hancock's utter surprise, Nora tilted her head and pressed her ridiculously plush lips to his ruined cheek. For several heartbeats, he didn't dare breath in case he shattered whatever moment of madness they were having.

“I'm really glad I met you, Hancock,” she murmured, moving to rest her head against his again.

Hancock swallowed passed the unexpected lump in his throat, and quietly replied: “You too, Sunshine. You too...”


	7. Stars (Nora/Hancock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A smirk tugged at Nora's lips as she tilted her head away from the starry sky, her gaze immediately falling to her companion. She let her eyes rove unabashed, drinking in the dramatic silhouette he cut. As if sensing her gaze, Hancock stopped starring out over the remains of Boston from their rooftop vantage point and regarded her with a soft smile, that threatened to set butterflies flitting around her stomach. The star filled sky was reflected in his onyx eyes as he knelt down beside her, and not for the first time, Nora found herself drawn to Hancock like a moth to a flame.

Leaning back on her palms, a smirk tugged at Nora's lips as she tilted her head away from the starry sky, blowing several strands of her unbound auburn hair out of her face, whilst her green eyes roved unabashed over her companion who was only partially lit by the dim light coming from her Pipboy. As if sensing her gaze, Hancock stopped starring out over the remains of Boston from their rooftop vantage point and regarded her with a soft smile, before stepping away from the ledge he'd been standing on to kneel down beside her. The star filled sky was reflected in his onyx eyes, and Nora couldn't help turning to press a gentle kiss to the palm of his gnarled hand when he gently cupped her cheek. She could hardly believe they were married now, the vintage ring he'd given her on their wedding day hanging from a simple golden chain around her neck.

When she'd first woken up in the godforsaken wasteland that had once been her home, Nora had never imagined she'd ever be able to be happy again; not with her husband murdered and baby boy kidnapped. But although she... they... had yet to find Shaun, she'd avenged Nate and laid him to rest, which had allowed Nora to start to move on. Befriending then partnering up with Nick Valentine had been the start of her building a life for herself in this post apocalyptic world, working with Preston to rebuild the Minutemen had been the start of her getting closer to her goal of finding her son, but meeting Hancock was the best thing to have ever happened to Nora. In either life. He was charming and charismatic and principled and kind and loyal. He got her in a way no-one ever had before. He was also a wicked shot, a scrappy fighter and sexy as sin. She'd been drawn to him the minute they'd met, regardless of the fact he barely looked human with his rad-burnt sky, jet black eyes, and several missing features like his nose and ears that were fused to his bald head. But regardless of his ghoulishness... and the flamboyant way he dressed... Nora had been attracted to Hancock from day one, though uncovering what a sweet and thoughtful person he was beneath the bravado he projected as Mayor of Goodneighbour had only drawn her in further.

“What you thinking about, sunshine?” he smiled, his raspy voice threatening to send a delicious shiver down her spine.

“How lucky I am,” she replied, not bothering to play coy.

As it often did whenever Nora said anything remotely romantic or loving, a brief look of shock flashed across Hancock's attractive face, before he grinned. “I always knew you were going to be my kind of trouble.”

“That why it took you so long to believe that I wanted you?” Nora teased, sitting up to drape her arms around her husband's shoulders.

“What can I say? Never thought a beautiful woman like you would also be my kind of crazy,” he retorted, leaning tantalisingly closer.

“You're such a tease,” she whispered, before capturing his unresisting lips.

Hancock gave a hum of agreement. “But you love me...”

Nora smirked as she pulled just far enough away to rest her forehead against his again, getting lost in his onyx eyes as she murmured: “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by some gorgeous art coteobscur sent me (that I hope they'll be find enough to link in the comments because it's stunning), and roughly follows on from my main Hancock/Nora fic 'Where the Rubber Meets the Road'.


	8. Wicked Game (Raul/Six)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another gunfight. Really, Raul had just come to expect that following the courier around meant his life expectancy had plummeted from centuries to days. However, despite how much he made a show of complaining about it, he'd decided a while ago that he wouldn't actually have it any other way. She was a chaotic ball of unrepentant sunshine, who had the unending bad habit of making his heart beat just a little faster whenever she turned her sultry smirk on him. But a pretty thing like her was never going to look at an old ghoul like him; even though she had the unerring ability to make him feel like the thirty year old vanquero he'd been before the bombs. Was she?

Panting for breath, they skidded to a stop behind a crumbling wall, both of them systematically peering around their meagre cover to pick off the Legionnaires that were taking potshots at them. Honestly, Raul wasn't even sure why he was surprised they were involved in yet another gunfight. The Boss was five-foot-nothing raw chaotic goodness. She was loca. She'd have to be, after storming the Black Mountains because a friendly Super Mutant made a passing comment that a ghoul was imprisoned up there. Not that Raul was complaining, because _he_ was the ghoul she'd liberated. He'd been following Six ever since, not because she expected him too, but because he felt like he owed her; life debts and common decency might have disappeared over two hundred years ago, but Raul _tried_ to be a good man; despite his withered rad-burnt skin, his deteriorating eyesight and knees that had never been right since a riding accident in his mid-twenties. However, all this fighting for their lives was starting to make Raul wonder if he'd been better off with Tabitha.

“You're wearing me out, Boss,” he grumbled, ducking back down to reload his magnum revolver.

“Just wait 'til I get you alone,” Six smirked, pausing just long enough to wink at him, before she leant out of cover and took care of a Legionnaire with her combat shotgun.

Raul was shocked into inaction for a split second, until his mind remembered he wasn't the thirty four year old vaquero he'd been before the bombs. There was no way a pretty thing like Six was serious with her flirting, not with an old ghoul like him at any rate. So he shrugged it off, before effortlessly taking his frustration out on the unlucky pendejo who had the bright idea to try sneak up on them from behind.

* * *

Raul's heart beat frantically as he lowered his gun and surveyed their surroundings, whilst Six shot the Fiend leader point blank in the face, despite the fact the pendejo was already dead on the sandy ground; and had been for most of the firefight. Biting back a groan, Raul took a seat on what was left of a tumbled down wall... relieved to rest his aching knees... whilst his milky gaze scanned the horizon for any more threats.

“I'm getting too old for this, Boss,” he sighed, attempting to sound weary despite trying not to laugh that the dog was urinating on the body of one of their would-be-murderers.

“Quit the old ghoul act, Raul,” Six smirked, drawing out his name in a way that always threatened to send a pleasant shiver down his spine. “You don't get to go around showing off your hotshot vanquero prowess one minute, then complain about creaky knees the next.”

“Prowess? You make me sound impressive, Chiquita,” he retorted, the endearment slipping out without his permission.

“You _are_ impressive, veijo,” she purred, giving him a blatant and unabashed once over.

“Eres la impresionante, incluso si estás loca,” Raul muttered, shaking his head.

“What was that?” Six asked, raising an eyebrow.

Raul shot her one of his usual smirks, before he continued scanning their surroundings, hoping she wouldn't catch him out when he blatantly lied: “You're crazy, Boss. And easy to impress.”

Six chuckled, her soft hand trailing tantalisingly... teasingly... around the collar of his jumpsuit, before she whispered against what was left of his ear: “Maybe I just know what I like.”

* * *

Another day, another gunfight. Really, Raul had just come to expect that following Six and her crazy robodog around meant his life expectancy had plummeted from centuries to days. However, despite how much he made a show of complaining about it, Raul had decided at least a fortnight ago that he wouldn't actually have it any other way. Six was still the chaotic ball of unrepentant sunshine that he'd first met, and her auburn dreadlocks were almost like a beacon for trouble whilst they roamed the Mojavi, but the thought of leaving her side hadn't once crossed Raul's mind in the weeks since she'd liberated him; and not just because he owed her his freedom. Six was kind and thoughtful and fun to be around, she had a wicked tongue when the mood took her, but was also the most compassionate person he'd ever met. She was an incessant flirt, easy on the eye, and had a figure with curves in all the right places. Because yes, Raul was more than a little attracted to the Boss, but he constantly reminded himself that her playful teasing wasn't serious, that the easy way Six touched his withered skin wasn't anything but friendly kindness. Though when she suddenly pushed him roughly against the still intact wall of a miraculously standing gas station out in the desert, her body almost flush with his as she peered around the corner of the building, a shameful wave of misplaced hope tried to wash over him.

“Any closer and you'll need a Rad-Away, Boss,” Raul quipped, as the Six' rigid posture began to relax.

Her striking green eyes snapped to meet his milky gaze, but instead of a sarcastic retort like he expected, Six' full lips curled into a feline smirk. “Seems like a small price to pay, _veijo_.”

Raul shook his head at the only bit of Spanish she seemed to know, though the thought to offer to teach her was derailed when Six' gaze momentarily fell to his thin lips, before she gave him a sultry look from beneath her lashes... seeming just about to say something more... just as several bullets unexpectedly pinged off the weathered brickwork just above their heads. Raul cursed vividly in both English and Spanish, before grabbing Six' wrist and pulling her down into better cover behind a disused dumpster; idly thinking he really should have known it was going to be another one of those days.

* * *

The bullet wound in his side _hurt_ ; a 'lucky' shot that had found it's mark before Raul and the Boss took care of the Legionnaire assassins' that had ambushed them. Six' hands were near frantic as she hurriedly unzipped his mechanic's jumpsuit, eased it off his shoulders and rolled it down to his waist, before she effortlessly tore the once black t-shirt he wore beneath so she could get to the bullet hole. Raul's gaze was getting hazy... partially due to pain and partly from the high strength Med-X the Boss had just stabbed into his gnarled bicep... but he could still see the way Six was gnawing on her ridiculously distracting lips.

“You're going to give an old ghoul ideas, Niña. Ripping my clothes off like that,” he smirked, wanting to alleviate the obvious look of worry in her green eyes.

“If you wanted me to undress you, all you had to do was ask, veijo,” she retorted, her gaze flicking up to meet his before she went back to studying his wound.

“Mierda. Now I feel stupid...”

Whatever else Raul might have said was cut off as he hissed in pain, as Six' cool fingertips barely trailed around the edge of his wound, obviously trying to assess the damage. He doubted she was going to have much success in gauging the severity, what with his twisted rad-burnt visage; but even through the haze of pain and medication, he realised Six touched his withered skin without revulsion. It wasn't the first time she had touched him, but it was no less surprising than every other time before. So Raul grit his teeth... not wanting to give his mouth chance to run off whilst his brain was fuzzy with Med-X, since there was no doubt in his mind that he was liable to mess up and let slip exactly what Six meant to him, if he wasn't careful.

* * *

It was unusual for them to all be out in the Mojavi, travelling as a group. But something had come up that required a range of expertise that somehow their motley group seemed to possess one way or another, and Six was far too charming then anyone had a right to be; which meant she'd managed to get them all to agree to make the journey together, despite several of them not exactly getting on. Raul could practically feel the distrusting glances the Brotherhood scribe kept shooting him, Cass and Arcade were currently not talking to each other... again... whilst Boone just generally seemed to hate everyone but Six. However they had a job to do, though Raul was only somewhat thankful he'd ended up working with the Boss instead of anyone else.

“Oh sure, toss the landmines around the arthritic ghoul who doesn't see so well,” he grumbled, as he stepped around another part of the trap she was laying.

“Maybe I want an excuse to get you to stick close,” Six smirked, teasingly trailing her fingertips down his arm before taking another mine from him.

“You're going to give an old ghoul a heart attack, talking like that,” he retorted, trying to remind himself as much as her exactly _what_ he was.

“Thought I'd told you before, lay off the old ghoul card. I've seen the shots you can make, veijo... muy impresionante,” she winked, unabashed.

“You're _really_ going to give an ghoul ideas, Cariña,” Raul stated, his voice coming out huskier than he intended, even as pride bloomed in his chest that she was finally picking up some Spanish.

“Maybe I want to,” Six practically purred, leaning into his personal space.

“Are they always like this?” Veronica asked, glancing between them with obvious discomfort.

“They're usually worse,” Arcade replied, deadpan.

“Young love...” Lily rumbled, as the towering Nightkin meandered passed, carrying steel rebars like they weighed nothing more than knitting needles.

“Seriously, you two just need to fuck already,” Cass proclaimed, crass as ever. “The sexual tension is fucking annoying.”

Shockingly, Boone gave a grunt that sounded like agreement before the sniper muttered: “You'd be doing us all a favour.”

To Raul's slight surprise, the Boss merely glanced over at him and winked; her striking green eyes sparkling with mischief as she evidently tried not to chuckle. Though instead of feeling like Six was laughing _at_ him, Raul felt like she was including him in a joke no one else was privy to. He didn't quite understand it but he wasn't going to complain, especially when her customary smirk softened into something gentler... just for him... when their hands brushed together as they continued to set the traps for the hapless pendejos who'd thought it was a good idea to cause trouble in Six' area of the Mojavi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish translations:  
> Pendejo(s) - Asshole(s)  
> Eres la impresionante, incluso si estás loca - You're impressive, even though you're crazy  
> Chiquita - Little One (term of endearment)  
> Veijo - Old man (used as a term of endearment)  
> Niña - Baby girl (term of endearment)  
> Mierda - Shit  
> Muy impresionante - Very impressive  
> Cariña - (my) sweetheart  
> *Please note, I'm not a native Spanish speaker so if I've gotten any of this wrong, please let me know*


	9. Sway, Mambo (Raul/Six)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raul shook his head in disbelief, when he finally noticed that the music drifting out of Six' pipboy wasn't the regular Rat Pack crooners of the Strip, but something so reminiscent of his youth that he KNEW the boss was behind it. As if to prove his theory, she held out her hand to him in a blatant invitation, and although Raul still couldn't believe that someone as pretty as Six was comfortable touching an old ghoul like him, he cautiously took her hand as he slowly got to his feet. 
> 
> "Do you even know what you're doing, Boss?" he teased, trying to hide his sudden nerves.
> 
> Six just smiled up at him radiantly. "No, but you're going to teach me."

As music played quietly from Six' pipboy that was set down in the middle of the table, Raul sat in the dining room of the boss' suite in the Lucky Thirty-Eight, watching the redhead mix drinks for them both; secretly admiring the way her green tea dress hugged her curves. But as nice as the view was, Raul couldn't help thinking about the reason why they were back so early from the Strip. The five-foot-nothing ball of chaotic sunshine had possibly broken an NCR recruit's jaw, all because the pendejo had insulted him. Actually it hadn't even been a real insult, just a sly dig in passing about ghouls being let on the Strip. No stranger to racism, Raul had heard much worse aimed at him both before and after the bombs, so he'd barely registered the snide words. However, Six had and Raul was shocked by how quickly the beautiful woman who'd one moment been laughing at one of his jokes, had turned around and sucker punched the guy who'd towered over them both. The NCR recruit had hit the ground hard, but Six had merely... gracefully... pivoted back to him, linked her arm through his, and pretty much guided him back to their base at the casino; her kitten-heel shoes clacking ever so slightly on the pavement as she walked.

“What's on your mind?”

Raul glanced up as Six set down a glass of tequila and Sunset Sarsaparilla in front of him, before she leant her hip against the table he'd been absent-mindedly drumming his fingers on. For a moment he didn't say anything, just took in the way Six looked in the dimmed lighting of the room; from the way her auburn dreadlocks were tied up in a black strip of fabric... that had once belonged to an old t-shirt of his... and the way the square neckline of her dress showed just a hint of cleavage, to the way her green eyes regarded him with unmistakable concern even as she took a sip of her own drink. Not for the first time, Raul was struck by just how lucky he'd been that Six had stormed into his life with all the subtly of a hurricane; not that he ever admitted that out loud, but Raul liked to think Six knew what she meant to him, just from the fact he willingly followed her into whatever loco situation she dragged him into. However, after everything he'd been through in the last two centuries, it still took Raul by surprise how much Six cared for him, and he hated making her worry. The redhead had enough on her plate without fretting over an old ghoul like him, so he sat back in his chair and offered her a small smirk.

“Nothing, Boss. I'm an open book. Granted, the book's in Spanish and some of the pages have fallen out, but I'm an open book.”

“Good thing I always liked a challenge,” she retorted, before sobering. “So nothing's wrong?”

“Nothing at all, chiquita,” he tried to assure.

“Then prove it.”

Six set down her drink and held out her hand to him, which was when Raul noticed the music playing from her pipboy wasn't the usual Rat Pack crooners that usually played on the Strip. It was actually something you could properly dance to, and he shook his head at Six in disbelief because he _knew_ this was her doing, yet still couldn't believe it. It might not be Pérez Prado or Beny Moré, but hearing Rosemary Clooney singing Mambo Italiano was incredibly welcome; especially considering it was only a few weeks ago that he'd admitted to Six that he missed hearing the mambo and cha cha music he'd grown up with, when she'd randomly asked if he missed anything other than the food and being around people who spoke his native tongue.

“Do you even know what you're doing, Boss?” he chuckled, cautiously taking hold of her hand as he slowly got to his feet.

“No, but you're going to teach me.”

Shaking his head with fond amusement, Raul wasn't at all surprised by Six' answer; she'd thrown herself into learning Spanish once the idea had struck her, after all. All because she worried he felt lonely, despite the fact they'd been together almost twenty-four-seven since the day she'd rescued him from the Black Mountains a few months ago. However, this wasn't the same as sitting around a campfire teaching her his language, this required contact and no matter how accepting Six always seemed to be, Raul couldn't shake off the thought that one day she'd come to her sense. That one day she'd realise how repulsive he was, that one day she'd realise she should be horrified by his twisted rad-burnt skin. But it seemed like today wasn't going to be that day, because the moment he cautiously settled his free hand in the middle of her back... whilst bringing their joint ones up to the proper position... Six simply stepped closer. Raul could feel the warmth of her body through the half-decent suit he always wore when the redhead dragged him out for a drink, and he couldn't help shaking his head fondly again. The fact Six wasn't afraid of him meant more to Raul than he'd ever admit... _she_ meant more to him than he'd ever admit... and with the redhead smiling up at him the way she was, it would be far too easy to forget _what_ he was; it would be far too easy to do something stupid and ruin their shockingly easy friendship. So to distract himself as much as humour Six' unexpected request, Raul started counting out the two-three-four-pause rhythm of the mambo for her.

Six easily followed his lead, stepping forward and back without missing a beat and despite his knees aching from the now unfamiliar action of dancing, Raul found himself getting lost in the rhythm. Without thinking, he ran his gnarled palms down Six' sun blushed arms, holding both her slightly calloused hands in his before he twirled her in a turn, the full skirt of her dress billowing out as Raul guided her under his arm. Six laughed delightfully as she let him guide her, easily falling back into step with him as he taught her how to sway side-to-side to the rhythm. But then in a moment of madness, Raul spun the redhead out before tugging her back to him. His arm wrapped snuggly around Six' slender waist as she twirled into his arms, her free hand landing against his chest as the song finished playing, but instead of pushing him away like Raul expected, Six looked up at him through her lashes as her hand lightly bunched the lapel of his suit jacket; as if she didn't want to let him go. The way Raul's heart raced had nothing to do with dancing for the first time in two hundred years, and everything to do with how the pretty redhead was looking at him like she didn't see the old ghoul he was, but the thirty-year-old vanquero he'd been before the bombs. Raul swallowed thickly, trying and failing to think of something to say as Six let go of his jacket and slowly reached up her dainty hand to cup his withered cheek, her striking green eyes searching his milky ones... until there was the telltale ding of the elevator reaching their floor, before the unmistakable sound of a drunken Cass and a giggling Veronica reached their ears, breaking the spell they'd been under.

“Thanks for the dance, Veijo,” Six whispered, a gentle smile tugging at her distracting lips as she slowly stepped away.

“De nada, Niña,” Raul assured, his voice no more than a murmur. “Any time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Translations:  
> Pendejo - Asshole  
> Chiquita - Little One (term of endearment)  
> Veijo - Old man (used as a term of endearment)  
> De Nada - No Worries/Don't Worry  
> Niña - Baby girl (term of endearment)


	10. Collision Course (Porter Gage/Nora)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora wasn't exactly sure what to make of the situation she'd stumbled into; she'd only been spat back into the land of the living a few weeks ago, and feeling guilty the entire time that she was relieved she wouldn't have to carry her too-used-to-the-finer-things-in-life lawyer husband through the post apocalyptic wasteland she'd woken up to. But now as she stood in the middle of a Raider area being heralded as the new Overboss, regarding an oddly attractive man in ridiculous yellow armour, Nora couldn't help wondering if the universe was having a damn good laugh at her expense.

Nora wasn't exactly sure what to make of the situation she'd stumbled into; she'd only been spat back into the land of the living a few weeks ago, after all. She'd been walking around with the conflicting feelings of rage that her baby boy was missing with no leads, and guilty relief that Nate was dead, meaning she wouldn't have to carry her too-used-to-the-finer-things-in-life lawyer husband through the post apocalyptic landscape she'd found herself in. Nora had been blindly wondering around the wasteland that had been Boston since escaping the vaukt, trying to get the obviously outdated map on her salvaged pipboy updated so she might have a hope in hell of navigating the new landscape. She'd met her faithful hound Boi during that time, helped a group of refugees set up a base in the ruins of her old life, then quickly left when Preston tried to rope her into that Minuteman bullshit; Nora had dealt with enough during the Sino-American war, she didn't want to repeat history... yet now she was stood in the middle of a Raider area being heralded as the new Overboss. Honestly, she was pretty sure the universe was having a damn good laugh at her expense.

Still, she wandered over to the man behind the ridiculous attractive voice who'd taken it upon himself to help her through that rigged fight, and met his muddy-hazel eyes without hesitation. Despite his appearance screaming RAIDER in big capital letters, there was something about him that Nora found oddly attractive, regardless of the fact he was shorter than her. He certainly wasn't classically handsome like Nate had been, and his large roman nose had obviously been broke one too many times... not to mention there was an imposing _metal_ eyepatch over his right eye... but there was still just something about him. Perhaps it was the fact he didn't leer at her curves that her old army fatigues had never disguised, or maybe it was the clearly intelligent way he spoke; he even seemed sober, which couldn't be said for many of the people she'd stumbled across so far. Besides, despite the fact it was evident there was a lot more going on at the old Nuka World site than it seemed, this Raider in his ridiculous yellow armour had stuck his neck out to help her, and whilst it obviously wasn't out the goodness of his heart, Nora was willing to see where this mutually beneficial arrangement could take her.

* * *

There was a moment as they locked eyes through the screen that surrounded the arena that Porter couldn't help thinking 'oh shit'. The redhead starring back at him still managed to look like she'd stepped off one of those pre-war billboards, even with her face and wavy shoulder length hair splattered in Colter's blood. He'd been avidly watching her methodical progress through that hair-brained gauntlet he'd warned Colter not to build, with that mutt of hers trotting faithfully by her side. They'd both made it through the deathtrap maze with barely a scratch, and when Porter had briefly talked to her through the comm. system before the fight, her strong accent had taken him by surprise. But now he was stood starring at her big blue eyes, trying not to think about how her ginger hair still managed to look perfect despite the rigged fight, Porter was shocked when her tato red lips curled into an unexpected smile... just for him.

“So that's the face behind the sexy voice,” she purred. Fucking _purred_. “Thanks for the assist.”

Since there was nothing he could actually say to that... nothing that wouldn't leave him looking like an idiot, at any rate... Porter chose to ignore most of her sentence and just complimented her on the fact she had enough brains to listen to his advice, before briefly explaining the situation; all through the safety of the barrier between them, in case she got the idea to put a bullet through his brain with that combat shotgun of hers.

“All I'm asking is that you trust me on this and give it a shot. I swear it'll be worth it,” he told her.

Porter watched as the redhead finally clipped her shotgun onto her back, rolled up the sleeves of her army fatigues... revealing a real pretty tattoo of some type of flower on the inside of her right arm... before she accepted the backpack her mutt dragged over for her. In a silence that was starting to put him on edge, Porter watched as she scratched the dog behind the ear, fished out a packet of smokes from a pocket, lit the end and took a drag... all whilst her blue gaze remained locked with his muddy eyes. If he hadn't perfected the art of hiding his feelings decades ago, Porter might have had the urge to fidget. As it was he just stood there looking back, silently hoping she'd take him up on the offer because for some reason, he had a good feeling about her; and not just because she'd proven herself to be a wicked shot and a decent listener.

“Seems like you've got a lot of explaining to do, so how about we go somewhere more... private?”

He swallowed reflexively at the redhead's reply, because it really shouldn't have sounded as suggestive as it did; and from the way her blue eyes seemed to sparkle almost mischievously in the dim lighting of the arena, Porter was certain it had been intentional. Once again the thought of 'oh shit' crossed his mind, because he got the feeling this woman was going to be keeping him on his toes... though if she continued to listen and work with him instead of letting the power go to her head like Colter had, Porter supposed possibly being driven crazy by a woman he could look at but couldn't touch wouldn't be a bad thing in the long run.

“Sure thing, Boss. I'll get the door.”

“A Raider with manners... is the world ending again?” she said, dryly.

Despite instincts screaming it was a stupid thing to do, Porter turned his back and started to walk away... partially as a show of fake trust that she wouldn't just shoot him in the back, but also to hide the small smirk that threatened to form on his lips... fairly certain she and her mutt would follow, but unable to shake the feeling the redhead was about to take him on a rollercoaster of a ride.


	11. Partners (Porter Gage/Nora)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite having a good feeling about the woman, Porter Gage still wasn't sure what to make of the Boss. She was an utter mystery to him, and whilst he'd never bothered to find out other Raider's stories before, he couldn't deny he wanted to know hers. Because almost two months into their association, he couldn't admit that the Boss wasn't just exactly what their operation needed, but what HE needed as well. Having her around felt... good; even if he was reluctant to dwell on that sort of thing.

Rolling her shoulders, Nora settled her back against the flagpole she'd just hoisted the Operator's flag up and lit a cigarette. She took a long drag as she ruffled Boi's ears when he settled down beside her, and let the nicotine flood her system before silently offered it to her new partner. Some days it felt like she'd made a deal with the devil when she'd agreed to hear Gage out... considering the enslaved traders, the powder keg waiting to blow that were the gangs, and the big bullseye that was metaphorically painted on her back... other days she could put aside the fact he was a Raider, and just appreciate the fact he was an oddly decent man. Like the fact he'd pushed her out of the way of a fucking assaultron. Luckily he'd listened to her before they'd set out for the Galactic Zone, so the reinforced leather overcoat she'd cobbled together for him had protected his arm from the laser blast he'd taken in her place, but that was beside the point. Gage had still put himself at risk for her, and despite the world going to shit, Nora couldn't just turn a blind eye to that sort of debt. That had been when they'd first entered the zone, now three full days and three sleepless nights later, the area was free from the crazy killer robots that had no place in an amusement park to begin with.

“Hey Boss, can we talk now?” Gage asked, as he accepted the cigarette and sat down against the wall opposite her and the dog.

“Of course, everything okay?” Nora replied, her blue eyes already scanning his overcoat in case there were injuries she hadn't noticed.

“Yeah sure, all things considered. Just been thinking is all,” he stated, handing back the cigarette. “That whole thing with Colter. I know we talked about it some before we headed out, but... um... it could be a sore spot between us, yeah?

“You mean the fact you turned on the old Overboss, and it's only natural for me to wonder if you're going to do the same to me?” Nora suggested, smirking. “What's the matter, Gage? Feeling guilty all of a sudden?”

“No, ain't no guilt over that call,” he told her, his visible eye meeting hers without hesitation. “Look, Colter was a piece of shit. I've been real clear about that with you. But that... really that was on me. I'm the one who talked him into being the Overboss in the first place.”

She nodded, though stayed silent for a long weighted moment... considering his words... before she took another drag of her cigarette. “We all make mistakes. You just have to learn from them.”

He huffed a humourless laugh. “I thought Colter was what this operation needed. Big, strong, didn't take shit from nobody. The gangs would fear and respect him, and he'd listen to me. I'd use all my years of experience to help him run things. But he was stubborn, let things go to his head. Ain't the first time I've seen it honestly, but it was one of the worst.”

“If you know how you want things run, why not take the spot as Overboss for yourself?” Nora asked, genuinely intrigued because Gage certainly had the brains.

“One thing I've learned over the years, being the guy in charge also means you're the guy with the biggest target on your back. There is always, _always_ someone gunning for you,” he replied, seriously. “I don't want that target on me, but if I can be the guy just behind the one in charge, that suits me just fine. If I've got their ear, I can steer things in a direction that benefits me, and usually everyone else.”

“You mean you want to be the puppet master... I'll tell you now, I'm no-one's dancing monkey. Been there, done that, paid the fucking price,” Nora snapped, with more venom than she'd really intended.

Though instead of lashing back, Gage rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable and she almost felt guilty for what she'd said. After all, it wasn't his fault her squad had some truly shitty and questionable orders during the war, and it wasn't his fault she'd been duped and made a Vault-Tec experiment against her will. Hell, he'd actually been kinda sweet... for a Raider... when they'd had to clear out the vault exhibit; taking point, throwing her a quick glance and waiting for her nod of confirmation before heading into the next room. He hadn't asked what was wrong with her, but he'd noticed something was wrong and had stepped up without her needing to say anything. However, despite discovering she could trust Gage to have her back in a fight, Nora didn't know him well enough to let him see her demons, though she still felt bad for taking her anger out on him. But before Nora could say anything, he beat her to it.

“Hell Boss, I ain't good at this. You ain't like Colter. That's what I'm getting at. You ain't like the other Raiders I've run with. So far, you've made a pretty damn good Overboss, and it's been fun running with you,” Gage stated, clearly uncomfortable. “I'm just saying... starting to be glad we teamed up, is all. All right, fuck it. You know what I'm getting at.”

Unable to help it, a small genuine smile tugged at Nora's red stained lips. She got the impression that talking about his feelings was akin to pulling teeth for Gage, so she really appreciated that he'd tried to explain what he meant. However, she also had the feeling that if she brought attention to it, her new partner would probably just be embarrassed. So without really thinking, Nora got up from her spot against the flagpole, before sliding down the wall to sit right next to Gage. Even though he was no longer wearing it, his weird yellow cage armour had made in abundantly clear he wasn't the type to let people close, so Nora wasn't exactly surprised when he tensed at her close proximity; probably expecting a knife between the ribs or something. Once again, Nora didn't draw attention to it. Instead, she simply pressed her shoulder against his, as a silently acknowledgement and show of camaraderie. Without a word they sat side by side, just watching the sun begin to rise.

* * *

Despite having a good feeling about the woman, Porter still wasn't sure what to make of the Boss. Her attitude when dealing with other people almost reminded him of Mags, cool and aloof, but she was different when it was just the two of them out on the road. She was a surprisingly tentative travelling companion; always managing to call for a rest stop just as he was beginning to flag, always handing him the first can of purified water, always taking first watch on the nights they didn't head back to base. However the first night they'd camped out in the Galactic Zone, Porter had accidentally discovered that the boss had a Med-X habit, or he'd thought it was a habit until she'd explained unprompted... through gritted teeth... that some shrapnel had messed up a nerve in her leg 'a life time ago'. Of course he'd kept an extra close eye on her after that, wanting to make sure she wasn't off her face and liable to drop them in shit, but after the three days it took them to clear out the Galactic Zone, Porter realised she'd actually been honest with him... which was practically unheard of when you were a Raider.

Porter had realised the Boss was an utter mystery to him, and whilst he'd never bothered to find out other Raider's stories before, he couldn't deny he wanted to know hers; and it wasn't just the pin-up looks, her unquestionable tactics when they were in a fight, or her unnervingly intimate knowledge of guns and pre-war technology that was driving him to distraction. It was the fact that she showed him respect, treated him like her equal, listened to him... actually _asked_ for his advice. It was the first time in a long while that Porter actually felt valued, appreciated even, and considering what had happened to last time he'd felt that way, he was naturally wary.

However, there was also the unnerving fact that he knew the boss cried herself to sleep at night, at least when they were back at the base and in relative safety; which Porter only knew because she refused to sleep in Colter's old digs, and had inadvertently invaded his area when she'd set up her sleeping bag in a defensible corner across the room from his own bed, wedged between the weapons bench and the peeling wall. At first it had made Porter wonder about her mental stability, then he'd worried the wrong person could find out about her uncharacteristic act of vulnerability. He'd worried that it was a weakness that could be exploited and fuck them both over. But as the days turned into weeks, Porter soon realised he wasn't actually bothered that the Overboss cried herself to sleep, he was bothered that _she_ was crying. Nora. Not the ruthlessly efficient exterior the boss showed to everyone else, but the woman he'd slowly been getting to know when it was just the two of them and her hound. Of course the Boss was still a badass, but there was so much more to her than that. Porter first saw it when she'd actually made him new armour and modded his gun after he'd teasingly asked if she was going to make him anything nice, when he'd found her tinkering at the work benches before they'd set off for the Galactic Zone. He saw it when she patched him up with her own supplies after they'd been ambushed by bloodworms in Dry Rock Gulch, and the fact she'd apparently told Nisha she'd put a bullet in the bitch's brain if the woman threatened _him_ one more time... if rumours could be believed, at least. Porter wasn't used to that sort of loyalty, and it meant something to him, even if he hadn't said anything to the Boss about it.

Now they were almost two months into their... association, partnership; Porter wasn't sure what to call it... with Mags happy that the Operators' flag was flying over the Galactic Zone and Dry Rock Gulch, and Mason appeased that they were readying to clear out Safari Adventure for the Pack to move in, it was clear the Boss had been exactly what their operation needed. What _he_ needed, not that Porter tried to dwell on that sort of thing. But having Nora around felt... good. He felt at ease around her in a way he never had with anyone else, not even Shank or Fritsch, and after the first few weeks of their partnership, Porter was also fairly convinced she wasn't going to go knife him in the back. Literally or figuratively. So as they moved around the lower floor of the Fizztop Grill, finalising preparations for their next mission... as the Boss called them... by the flickering light from several gas lanterns, Porter paused checking over their travelling packs and took a moment to study the woman. She was dressed in a once black tank top and the khaki combat pants she always wore, her ginger hair tied in a high ponytail as she tinkered away at the armour workbench. Her pipboy was sat to the side, the radio turned to the classical station, whilst her mutt sat dutifully at her feet. He'd heard several of the Disciples likening him to the boss' hound, but considering Porter knew she held the mutt in a much higher regard than probably any of the Raiders in the park, it wasn't as insulting as it was intended to be. Shank had also informed him there were rumours circulating, unsurprisingly about how he must be whoring himself for Boss for her to keep him around the way she did, but Porter didn't give a shit. It wasn't anything he hadn't already heard when Colter was in charge after all, but when it came to Nora, he realised he really wouldn't mind if that particular rumour was true.


	12. Something More (Porter Gage/Nora)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora sighed as she slid the last part of Gage's rifle back into place, which meant there was no stalling any longer, she had to talk to him. He'd been acting odd for a while, though maybe distant was a better way to describe it. It wasn't so noticeable when they were out clearing the parks, but now they were back at base and Gage had been using anything he could to avoid her without outright looking like he was avoiding her, it was getting ridiculous. They were supposed to be partners, but that meant shit if they didn't talk to each other. Something had to give.

Porter grunted in pain as the Boss helped him sit down on his unmade bed, his broken leg and ribs still throbbing despite the Stimpacks she'd used on him without a second thought; once she'd finished off the Deathclaw that had flung him into a boulder like am unwanted toy. He wasn't even sure how she'd finished the bastard off, or how she'd managed to drag his sorry ass and their gear back from the area around Grandchester Mansion back Nuka World... never mind why. Any other Raider would have left his sorry ass to either rot or drag himself back, and whilst Porter had already realised the Boss wasn't like anyone he'd ever met before, this whole partner thing was a lot to wrap his head around. It almost made the humiliation of hobbling back into Nuka-Town with the Boss supporting him worth it. Almost. Porter knew he wasn't popular among the gangs, but he'd never worried about appearing weak until he heard several Disciples sniggering about him as they passed, though that paled in comparison to when the Boss had to help him out of the armoured overcoat she'd made him. Unable to help it, Porter hissed in pain when she gently pushed up his grey t-shirt, her slightly calloused fingers carefully probe the purple mass that had once been his scarred torso.

“I don't think there's any internal bleeding, but I'd prefer MacKenzie to check you over,” she stated, her big blue eyes glancing up at him. “How you feeling? And I mean truthfully. No macho Raider bullshit.”

“I ain't doing so hot, Boss...” he sighed, figuring there was no point lying.

“You going to let me get the doc then?” she asked.

Before Porter had a chance to reply, there was an unexpected ding from the elevator, which prompted him to grit his teeth and reach for his gun; even as the Boss stepped in front of him protectively, levelling her combat shotgun at the wound be intruders whilst her mutt growled menacingly.

“It's me, and I brought the doc,” Shank's unmistakable voice called, before he stepped into the room.

The next hour went by in a blur for Porter, even though he refused the drugs the doc offered before she started to examine his still healing wounds. He vaguely listened into the conversation between the Boss and Shank... something about the fledgling settlement in Sanctuary being off limits for the gangs... but he sort of blacked out when the doc pushed something in his torso back into place. He woke up hell-knows how long later, unexpectedly finding the Boss sat on the floor beside his bed, her head pillowed on one arm whilst her free hand surprisingly held his. She looked liked she'd fallen asleep and not knowing what else to do, Porter squeezed her hand to try rouse her.

“Rise and Shine, Boss,” he croaked, his throat feeling parched.

She jerked awake, her blue eyes snapping to him immediately and Porter was struck by the sheer relief that washed over her undeniably pretty face. She huffed a laugh that could have almost been a sob from almost anyone else, before letting go of his hand to run her fingers through her dishevelled ginger hair. Then without a word she got up and turned her back on him, walking away and muttering something about 'fucking assholes fucking scaring her half to death', only to return with a can of purified water for them both.

“How you feeling?” she asked.

“Shit,” he admitted, in a rare show of trust.

“Got some Med-X if you want to take the edge off?” the Boss offered, perching on the edge of his bed.

“I don't do that shit.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I take it you've got a reason, since I know you're not an idiot.”

“Got addicted few years back,” he replied, forcing himself to meet her gaze.

“Your eye?” she asked, her tone jarringly gentle.

Porter grunted his acknowledgement, his eye and the story about it wasn't something he told people... wasn't something people were stupid enough to ask about. He didn't trust anyone to let that close any more; fitting, considering it was a constant reminder of what happened when he did.

“Fair enough. Doc says you need a few days to rest but no lasting damage,” the Boss stated, as if he hadn't just given her ammunition to use against him. “I figured we'd take the opportunity to stock up then hit Safari Adventure once you're ready, before moving on to the bottling plant. And before you argue any sort of macho Raider bullshit, you told me yourself that those assholes waited _months_ under Colter, so they can wait a few more days 'til you're healed.”

His lips twitched to smile, oddly touched she was putting his needs first. “You're something else, Boss.”

* * *

Nora sighed as she slid the last part of Gage's rifle back into place, which meant there was no stalling any longer, she had to talk to him. He'd been acting odd... though maybe distant was a better way to describe it... ever since they'd encountered Cito. Nora wasn't sure what Gage's problem was, since the Tarzan-esque man had been nothing but sweet and helpful since they'd arrived at Safari Adventure. He'd helped them figure out what was happening at the decimated zoo, let them sleep in the protection of the old Ape House with his ghoulrilla family at night, shared his meagre food with them, and helped them wipe out the gatorclaw problem. Gage hadn't said a word when the Pack moved into the zone, or when she told Mason Cito and his familty were off limits, and Nora hadn't really thought anything of it. But now they were back at base, and Gage had been using anything he could to avoid her without outright looking like he was avoiding her. It was getting ridiculous. So Nora breathed out another sigh as she leant her hip against the weapons bench, scrubbing a hand down her face. When had things with Gage gotten so complicated?

“Hey Boss, armour's done.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of his unusually subdued voice; his tone so sombre that Nora decided that regardless of the consequences, regardless whether it was going to make her weak by Raider standards, she needed to talk to him. They were partners in all this, despite the fact she'd never intention to join the Raiders. Gage was the only one in the godforsaken place she actually trusted not to try kill her and... perhaps against her better judgement... Nora cared about Gage too much to just walk away and leave him to the mercy of the other gangs. But their partnership meant shit if they didn't talk to each other.

“Is everything alright between us, Porter?”

Gage's visible eye widened slightly as his head snapped to actually look at her, the use of his given name obviously surprising him and having the desired effect of gaining his full attention, before he glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck. Nora took the opportunity to push away from the workbench and join him on the other side of the room; without the ridiculous cage armour or the armoured duster coat she'd made him, Gage seemed much more approachable dressed in a once-white tank top and dirty jeans,so she rested a hand lightly on his muscular bicep to catch his attention again.

“Ain't no place I'd rather be, if that's what you're getting at?” he replied, barely looking at her.

“Something's wrong though,” Nora pointed out, dropping her hand.

“Look, I don't know how to talk about any of this shit... feelings I mean. This is all kinda new to me, okay? But, come on... seems like you've changed. Starting to wonder if you ain't got the stomach for this,” Gage stated, his eye finally meeting her gaze.

“You mean because I didn't kill Cito?” she spat, immediately furious. “Whether you like it or not, I'm not a murderer and I'm not about to go around killing people who don't deserve it... I had enough of that a lifetime ago and I'm nobody's puppet. Not any more.”

Nora turned on her heel, intending to walk away before she said something she'd regret, until Gage's calloused hand wrapped around her wrist. It wasn't a painful hold, but she instinctively whirled back around with her fist raised; barely catching herself before she threw the punch. They stood in the flickering light of the oil lantern, silently regarding each other until Gage gave her a barely there smirk.

“That's... some impressive reflexes, Boss.”

Unable to help it, she huffed a humourless laugh. “Should be, all things considered.”

“Getting the idea there's something I'm missing,” Gage said, obviously cautious. “Might be none of my business, but...”

Nora sighed, the fight going out of her immediately and she sat down heavily on the nearest chair with her head in her hands. “Not that you're going to believe me.”

There was a drawn out pause before he quietly stated: “Try me.”

She looked up surprised, finding Gage leaning against the table beside her with his arms crossed. His discomfort was evident, but despite professing countless times he didn't do 'feelings', it was obvious he was trying... for her. It was oddly touching, kind of sweet in a very Gage sort of way.

“You remember how unnerved I was in that vault exhibit, back in the Galactic Zone? That was because I was in one. Vault one-eleven,” Nora murmured, dropping her gaze to the stained floor.

“So you're a former vault dweller...” Gage began.

“If you can call being cryogenically frozen against your will 'dwelling', then yeah,” she interrupted.

“I... think you're going to need to spell this out for me, Boss.”

The wariness was clear in Gage's voice, but when Nora looked up at him, all she saw in his visible eye was concern. So she took a steadying breath and told him _everything_. The frantic dash to the vault when the siren sounded, the mushroom cloud, feeling the heat and wind from the blast rolling in before the vault closed above them. She told him about Nate and Shaun, told him about waking up but still being trapped, being forced to watch her husband's murder and son's kidnapping; she even admitted to being glad that Nate wasn't around any more. When she trailed off an Gage didn't immediately call her insane, Nora decided she might as well tell him the rest. So looking him dead in the eye, she finally took the opportunity and told another living soul exactly what had happened during the war. She told him of the bad calls and stomach churning orders, she told him about the atrocities she'd witnessed, the detainments of innocent American civilians she was forced to carry out. She told him about Anchorage, of seeing her second in command and best friend being blown apart. At some point she'd started crying, the tears silently rolling down her cheeks as she talked about things she would have been tried for treason for speaking about. The silence when she finished speaking hung heavy between her and Gage for several minutes, until:

“Shit, Boss... guess that explains a lot.”

A laugh that was almost a sob bubbled up from her, and Gage cracked a rare smile in reply.

“Gotta ask though, why did you stick around here when you had your own shit to deal with?” he asked, seriously.

“You helped me with Coulter, so I owed you, and I figured it was worth seeing what resources the gangs had that I could turn to my advantage. Then I heard what Nisha had to say about you... I wasn't about to let you get butchered. You're a better man then any of those assholes,” Nora admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor again. “Besides, it's not like I have any leads on where my baby is. I don't even know how long ago it's been since he was taken. They frozen me again before they left with him.”

Gage sighed before unexpectedly moving to crouch in front of her, forcing her to meet his eye. “Look, Boss. You know I'm no good talking about feelings and shit, but I'm not going to walk out on you over this, in case you're worried about that. I ain't used to relying on people, but I guess it really is me and you against the world now. Shank can be trusted though. Could have him keep his ear to the ground. You'd be surprised the information he gets a hold of.”

Shocked and touched, Nora managed to muster a small smile for him. “I'm glad I took a chance on you, Porter.”

Clearly embarrassed, Gage rubbed the back of his neck as his gaze settled just over her shoulder. “Same, Boss. You're really something else.”


End file.
